Page 15 of Dead Devil's Playground
He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to. It’s safer that no one knows who really runs this town.
Protecting Ry will always be my priority. It might even get me killed.
Something had felt off the moment she left my side at the Playground. I hadn’t even gotten three minutes with the team there before I had to follow her outside. So, I followed. Slipped through the back entrance just in time to catch sight of the dancer—Oliver—babbling about being innocent. His hands were up, eyes darting, and for one second I thought maybe he had done something worse. Then the roar of an engine split the air.
Her.
I hit the lot just in time to see her tear out of the staff carpark, hair flying, as she leaned into the bike like she’d been born with it welded to her body. My stomach dropped like a stone.
Because I knew exactly where she was going.
Fifth Street.
By the time I caught up, adrenaline was a live wire under my skin. I knew I’d be too late to stop her. The only question was whether I’d be too late to save her.
The alley stank of smoke and rot when I rounded the corner, and my worst fear crystallized in front of me: her back pressed against brick, a blade at her throat.
For a heartbeat, my lungs refused to work. The world narrowed to her wide eyes and that thin line of blood already streaking down her neck.
And then the moment snapped. The gun was in my hand before I even registered pulling it. One shot. One body down.
I don’t remember moving, only the weight of the trigger and the sound of my own blood pounding in my ears.
When she turned those laughing, blood-smeared lips on me, purring about how I’d ruined her fun, I felt rage and relief crash together so hard it nearly broke me. Because all I could see was how close I’d been to watching her die.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
She was still laughing, blood dripping down her throat, blades slick with the lives she’d taken. She looked like sin incarnate standing there, hair wild, eyes bright, body thrumming with adrenaline.
And I was torn wide open.
I wanted to throttle her. Pin her against the wall and shake her until her teeth rattled for being so reckless, for making me feel that sick hollow fear in my chest.
I wanted to drag her over my knee, rip that cocky grin off her face with the flat of my hand until she remembered who the fuck kept her alive.
And worse—so much worse—I wanted to give into the madness clawing at me. I wanted to take her right there, inthe blood and bodies, bury myself so deep inside her she forgot every name but mine. To claim her like she was already mine, to make sure every corpse in that alley was a witness to the truth I didn’t dare speak.
Instead, I clenched my jaw until it ached. My hands shook around the grip of my gun, not from fear but from everything I was holding back. She was dangerous enough already. Me wanting her like this? That was suicidal.
She tilted her head, wiping the blood from her lip, and smiled at me like she knew. Like she could see every twisted thought crawling through my skull.
And maybe she could.
Chapter 7
Ry
Nightfallslikeavelvet curtain, and the Devil's Lair throbs beneath our feet. I stand at the edge of our penthouse, watching the city lights flicker like dying fireflies. The darkness calls to me—it always does. That sweet symphony of night and chaos that makes my blood sing.
"Ready?" Rev's voice slides over my skin, and I turn to find both twins watching me. They look predatory and perfect in their matching black pants and shirts open at the collars, showing off the tattoos crawling up their throats. Kai's hair is disheveled while Rev's is slicked back—two sides of the same deadly coin.
I grin, the expression feeling sharp on my face. "Born ready."
My reflection in the glass catches my eye—teal hair framing pale skin, the thin red line across my throat a reminder of how close I came to dancing with the reaper today. But death and I are old friends. We've been flirting for years. The cut I got from the asshole in the alleyway is healing nicely. I touch it,remembering the cold press of steel, the hot spray of blood when Hudson's bullet found its mark.
I feel electric tonight, like my skin is too small to contain whatever's building inside me. Like I could tear this city apart with my bare hands and laugh while doing it.
"You look like trouble," Kai murmurs, appearing at my side. His fingers brush the small of my back, tracing the curve of my spine through the thin material of my dress—black and tight, slashed low in the back, high on the thigh.
